


My Shadow Weighs A Ton

by Stylinsonvodka



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Addict Liam, Addict Louis, Angst, Everybody's a Little Bit Obsessed With Zayn, Liam's a Bit of an Asshole, M/M, Nurse Zayn, Overprotective Best Friend Perrie, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinsonvodka/pseuds/Stylinsonvodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's an addict, hell bent on self destruction. </p>
<p>Zayn's the one nurse at the rehabilitation clinic that may be able to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Shadow Weighs A Ton

**Author's Note:**

> lots a notes here so woahh hold on
> 
> 1\. i know i should be working on awoft but i got the prompt for this and i was like !!!! and i literally couldnt focus on anything else until i got it written. the next chapter for awoft will be up soon, though, i promise!
> 
> 2\. this was written for a prompt
> 
> 3\. this is like cute japan-hair-zayn-esque so roll with that
> 
> (3.5. but liam has his now-hair cause hot damn)
> 
> 4\. i stole the title from that song that plays during the end credits of orange county 
> 
> 5\. this is basically brilliance so youre welcome

Liam wakes up. 

The shit start to his shit day. 

His head's pounding, as though filled with boulders, easily displaced by his every movement. His mouth is dry and chapped and caked with lipstick, and all he can taste is old beer and carpet and ass. He's almost numb, too, for his first few moments, and it kind of aches, like a constricting hand wrapped too tightly around himself. But he knows to welcome it, and that once he cracks his eyes open, the familiar sharp sting will be back and ten times worse, just beneath the thin veneer of his skin. 

He shifts slightly, and groans into his pillow as he feels it start to bleed into his toes, trying to cling to unconsciousness for as long as he can. 

He manages it for only a moment, before the bedroom door suddenly explodes open and the curtains are abruptly yanked back. Almost immediately, the comfortable ache starts to release it's hold on Liam, and he groans again as the agony of withdrawal starts to set in without warning. His skin's suddenly too tight, and his breath catches, his head promptly overflowing with obnoxious insects and overemphasized explosives. He heaves another groan, as the blankets are ripped away from him, and he's left sweating and shivering in place.

"Liam," a voice, Harry's, says, and Liam only growls. " _Liam_." 

Liam tries to ignore him, but Harry's not having it, and his eyes finally flutter open as Harry presses a sharp kick to the side of his head. "What, what?" 

"It's time to get up," Harry tells him, and Liam only blinks, struggling to focus on his blurry figure and his garbled words at the same time. "Time to wake up," he repeats. 

Liam groans. His voice sounds too deep, and much too distant, as though he's speaking to himself through a tube. "What? Why? What've I got to do today?" 

"We're supposed to meet Niall. We're getting our suits fitted." Liam only blinks up at him, but apparently it gets his point across, and Harry's answering sigh carries too much weight. Liam knows the feeling. "Niall's getting married, remember, Liam? We're his groomsmen." 

"He's getting married today?" Liam asks, and Harry frowns.

Liam can see the hope in his eyes dim the smallest bit as he frowns, even through the fog that's started to cloud the edges of his vision. Harry always has so much hope in everyone, but especially in Liam, like he expects for him to wake up one morning as clean and as healthy as he ever had been. And Liam hates letting him down, even more than he hates most things, and he hates watching the hope leave his eyes again when Harry realizes that it's one more day that will have to pass with Liam still not sober. Liam has tried to get clean again, sometimes just for Harry, but it's hard, and Liam's so weak, he thinks he might be shut in this place forever.

He sits up slowly, as Harry sighs again, careful not to dislodge the girls beside him as he swings his legs over the edge bed. Harry's saying something about, "No, the wedding's not today, Josh isn't even in the county," but Liam's barely listening, and he's only half struggling to focus. He pulls open the bedside table, and from it, he pulls an elastic band, and he's in the process of tying it around his arm when Harry catches his attention by snatching it from his hands. 

"Liam," he says, and Liam blinks. "You aren't gonna be high for this fucking fitting." 

"But," Liam says, pulling out another thick band. "I need it." 

"You don't," Harry states, as he pulls the next band from Liam's grasp. Harry doesn't understand. "We need you sober and functioning just this once, Liam." 

Liam groans again, looking up at Harry as he stuffs the bands into the pocket of his jacket. Liam can't function sober at the best of times, but especially not with withdrawal already biting at him from just beneath his skin. He's tried so hard to explain that to Harry, but Harry is certain that cutting Liam off will help him get better. He really doesn't understand.

"Do I even need to do this?" He asks, running his fingers through his hair, over his arms, down his legs. His fingers twitch. "Niall knows what size I am."

"No, he doesn't, because you've lost so much weight." 

Liam can feel Harry's words almost like a slap to the face. 

"But," he says again, regardless. 

What Harry doesn't understand is that if Liam leaves sober, he won't be any easier to deal with than he would be if he were high. He'll be twitchy, and sick, and paranoid, and he's prone to starting to hurt himself to distract himself until he can finally get high again. He won't be the functioning, polite, bundle of sunshine Harry seems to think he'll become, he'll be an even bigger burden than is normal, but with god knows how many more vexes. 

He finally glances over his shoulder, at the quartet of girls splayed across his bed, wearing nothing but lovebites and bunny ears. He can't remember at which point last night he picked up four Playboy Bunnies, much less their names, but he figures it's a good a out as any. "But I promised I would spend the day with the girls," he says.

"You can't skip out on us again, Liam," Harry tells him, without so much as a pause. "If you can give me the name of one of the girls, you can stay with them." 

And of course, _of course_ Harry would call him on as much, because this much is as much as Harry knows. Harry knows Liam spends most of his life beneath a drifting fog, of long nights and longer days, of booze and boobs and babes. He knows the mechanics of the high, of the hangover, and he knows that Liam doesn't. He knows better than Liam does that Liam's screwed. 

"Fine," Liam sighs finally, after a long moment of trying to pull their names up from the back of his mind. "Fuck you. At least gimme time for a cigarette first." 

.

The drive there is completely silent. 

Harry's attempts at conversation had failed, and otherwise completely died out, Liam had been unwilling to listen to what he had been saying or at all reciprocate. The radio had been switched on, for a solid two minutes, before the bass got to be too much and Liam's head pounded so badly he had to step out of the car to throw up. The windows had even been rolled up, to drown out the sounds of wind and people and passing cars, after Liam claimed if he heard another car horn he'd probably die. Apparently his pained expression was enough to convince Harry he wasn't lying. 

Finally, Harry pulls to the curb, in front of a building that Liam is still enough of himself to recognize is very obviously not a suit store. It's tall, cold, and clinical, with white walls and windows so reflective Liam can almost see the hope die in his own eyes. 

"Is this a doctor's office?" Liam asks finally, hands twitching as he pulls his hood up over his head. "Why are we here?" 

"Just come on," is all the explanation he gets, before Harry starts inside. The words stir a bit of unease within Liam, but he's in no position to argue, and he follows Harry obediently through the wide double doors. 

Harry leads him down a long corridor, as tightly polished at the outside. The building, apparently more of an office than a clinic, appears to he empty, and their footsteps echo until the pair of them stop before another large set of doors. Liam can clearly see his face in the brass of the doorknobs, and he sighs, turning to Harry slowly enough to as not spark another onslaught of nausea. 

"There aren't suits behind this door, are there?" He asks. Harry shakes his head and waves him inside. 

Taking the hint, and the lead, Liam's the first to step forward, pushing the doors open with hands that refuse to stop shaking. He steps inside slowly, into the sallow, natural light of the room, and watches in confusion as every friend he hasn't abandoned glances up. They wear identical expressions, sadness and concern, and Liam almost doesn't know what to think. Until a figure he doesn't recognize, a tall, long haired young man with a ridiculous beard, sits straighter in his chair and says, clearly, "Liam." 

All Liam hears is, " _Intervention._ " 

"No!" He snaps. Feeling betrayed, and put out, and furious, Liam turns, fully intending to storm out of the room and never turn back. But Harry is still behind him, and Harry knows, and Harry is blocking the exit before Liam can even make it over to him. "No!" he shouts again. 

He's in the process of pushing past him, when he feels somebody take his arms, and he's struggling and throwing punches but at the same time it's in vain, he's being towed backwards. "No," he growls again, but there's two, three pairs of hands on him now, towing him backwards, forcing him into a chair. He can hear the distinct sound of ripping tape, before he feels his hands being bound, his legs secured to those of the chair before he can even think about kicking anybody in the face. 

"Fuck you guys!" He spits, and all he can see is red, and maybe a bit of sorrow. "I fucking hate you! Fucking liars!" 

"Liam," somebody's voice says, too calm for Liam's liking, far too close to his face. He blinks, and Andy's face swims into view, wearing an expression of earnest concern, looking more somber than Liam's ever seen him. "Liam," he's saying, and Liam thinks he should be grateful his hands are bound because he really wants to punch Andy in the face. "We're doing this for you, man. We're just trying to help."

Liam doesn't need help. Liam spits on him. 

Andy curses, and steps back, and Liam's almost waiting for them to gag him, before there's more shouting and jostling and Niall is crouching down in front of him. Liam can't bring himself to spit on Niall. His eyes are swollen, rimmed in red, his lips ripped raw by his teeth. His shoulders sag, as though he's aged years since the last time Liam's seen him, and he seems to be carrying the weight of the world with him. The wedding, is Liam's first thought, but then he remembers that Niall's wedding's had to take a back seat to his angst riddled, drug addicted best mate, and his refusal to accept help. Liam's the weight on Niall's thin shoulders. 

The red haze starts to disperse. 

"Liam," Niall says, and Liam doesn't spit on him. "We're not trying to force you into anything, yeah? We can't force you to accept help, and we can't help you if you're unwilling. We just want you to hear us out. Think you can do that?" 

"Okay," Liam says. 

"Think we can untie you?" 

"Probably not," Liam says. And it's probably the most earnest thing he's said since 2004. 

Niall smiles. 

"Okay," he agrees softly, and pats Liam's knee, fingers curling fleetingly into the ripped fabric of his jeans. Liam can only stare, unable to bring himself to smile, and he watches as Niall rises slowly and resumes his spot next to Josh. 

The interventionist is the next to speak. "Liam," he says, and Liam wrinkles his nose. "I assume you know why we're all here. Your friends all very worried about you." 

Liam glances around, at the small group of them, and his heart lurches in a way that he really hasn't missed. Liam doesn't like emotions, never has, and he can't see that he ever will. It's how he got so mixed up, in drugs and sex and booze, and it's the reason he has so many jagged scars on his wrists. It kept him from hurting when his family abandoned him, after one too many failed tries at sobriety, and it had helped when he had lost most of his friends for the same reason. 

"As Niall said," the interventionist continues, voice self important and authoritative, and fuck, him, Liam would spit on, "we aren't trying to pressure you into anything, we're just trying to help."

"Your friends have all written you letters, which they will proceed to read to you now. They just want to see you better, Liam, so please try to hear them out."

He looks to Liam, like he's expecting him to speak, but Liam only scowls. He nods. "Who wishes to speak first?" 

The interventionist glances around once, before he glances through Liam, at Harry, whose hand has since shot into the air.

"Harry?" He says, for good measure. "Please." 

Harry, always tolerant, lovely, Harry, only nods, rising from his spot next to Niall and moving to sit at Liam's feet. "Liam," he says softly, and that's when Liam's heart officially drops. "I've known you literally my entire life. Since I can remember, you've been there, and you've been a pain in the ass. But I love you, man, and I've loved that I've been able to watch you grow up. I don't want to have to watch you die, too." 

_No_ , Liam thinks, _don't you dare fucking do this to me_. 

Harry continues to do so, anyway. "I know," he continues, and his voice breaks, and he pauses for a long moment to try and regain his composure. Liam doesn't like the silence that follows. It gives his thoughts too much free reign. "I know it's hard, and I know you struggle with it, but it would mean the world to me if you could at least give it try," Harry sighs finally. "We're supposed to grow old together, remember? Die at the same time? It won't work with you in jail, or the hospital, or the ground." He glances up at Liam, from beneath his eyelashes, eyes wet and hopeful. "Please, Liam, I know -" 

Liam shakes his head. "I'll do it."

.

The walk to back to the car is the longest walk Liam's ever had to endure. 

His wrists ache, his skin itches, and his mind is now buzzing with both withdrawal and the weight of Harry's words. He hadn't needed to hear anybody elses speeches, or letters, or whatever the hell they'd prepared. He'd known Harry since before he could remember, and Harry'd never once lost hope in him. Liam'd let him down countless times, verbally and emotionally abused him, ignored him for months at a time in favour of getting drunk, getting high, getting laid. He'd disappointed Harry more times than not, and while the hope in him had flickered, before Liam's very eyes, sometimes, it's never faded, and never once gone out. And Liam, sober enough to see more in Harry's expression than an over intense need to help everything and everyone get better, he figured he couldn't let Harry down again. 

And there was also no way he could survive another few speeches without crying in front of everyone. 

He scratches at his wrists, before he pulls at his hair again, trying to numb the feeling of anxiety pooling just beneath his hot skin. "I'm allowed to go home and get packed, right?" He asks Harry, who's standing barely a foot behind him, wearing an expression that looks suspiciously like pride. Liam had almost forgotten what that had looked like. 

"Yeah," Harry nods, and grins. "Yeah, c'mon."

.

The first thing Liam sees in rehab is a twitchy kid standing a little ways to the left of the front desk, and he immediately knows he's gonna be miserable. 

For a good, solid second, he even considers turning on his heel, and heeding the warning that's wound tightly around the kid in the form of thick bandages and sweatpants. He has to be miserable, even Liam can see it, watching the kid scratch at his wrists and pull at his clothes as though they're restricting.

He takes a deep breath, and starts to step back, but Harry's still with him, and Harry places a hand on the small of his back to silently guide him to the front desk. Liam knows he could overpower him, if he really wanted to, and that he could break away and sprint from the building and disappear off the face of the Earth with no difficulty. He's gone into hiding before, and he's really fucking good at it, but the more he thinks about it, the more he knows that he can't put Harry or Niall through anything more of the sort.

He sighs loudly, avoiding the expect eyes of the nurses and ignoring the comforting words Harry's mumbling into his ear. Liam eventually surrenders, and simply glances back over at Twitch, who seems to be the living embodiment of everything Liam feels. He looks over at him, to find Twitch already looking, watching Harry and him as the pair of them as they approach. 

Liam looks away from him, finally, once they reach the large front desk, but he walks over, leaning against the counter in front of Harry before either of them have a chance to say anything. 

"My name's Louis," he tells Harry, sticking a hand out, and Liam swears the nurse to his immediate left drops her pen. 

"My name's Harry," Harry replies, and Louis smiles, shaking his hand. 

"Hello, Harry," he says. "It's very nice to meet you."

Harry laughs, but Liam doesn't miss the way his ears turn pink. "It's a pleasure," he tells him, and Louis giggles, and the fucking nurse drops her damn pen again. "You've got a darling laugh." 

"Thank you, Harry," Louis giggles, and kisses Harry's cheek, before he once more turns away and starts to wander off down a hallway that looks as though it must stretch on forever. Liam doesn't wanna be here. 

"I take it he doesn't talk much?" He asks finally, when silence falls, and the nurse with the pen deficiency turns to look after him. 

She turns to look at Liam slowly, tilting her head as though just remembering he's there. Which is exactly the kind of responsibility Liam looks for in rehab. "I've just never heard him speak," she says eventually, gaze flickering to Harry. "He's quiet when he's not flirting with strangers or male nurses."

The nurse glances down the hall again, before she turns back to Liam, plastering a more promising smile across her face. Liam frowns. "Now, how can I help you?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Liam admits shortly, and Harry leans against the polished desk before them with a sigh. 

"Payne," is all he says. 

She nods. She sits in the chair next to her slowly, and brings up something on her computer, before returning her focus to Liam and Co. a moment or so later. "Of course," she smiles again. "Darren, here," she tells him, nodding at the nurse next to her, "will show you to your room and help you with your schedule, if that's alright. We'll send your nurse to meet you as soon as he's free." 

"My nurse?" Liam starts to complain, but the words die, when Darren glances down at him expectantly. Liam could probably not overpower Darren. Darren could probably rip Liam in half. "My nurse," Liam nods. "I will meet my nurse in a couple minutes, after following Darren to my room, after saying goodbye to Harry, if that's alright?" 

Darren nods. 

"Thank you, Darren," Liam says. Darren nods again, and Liam smiles, though it's tight and fake and forced and gone the moment he turns his back. Together, he and Harry wander back through the front foyer, and Liam almost zones out staring at the outside world through the glass walls. It already feels foreign. He sighs. "I'm gonna miss you," Liam murmurs, though he's not entirely sure if he's talking to Harry, or the wall. 

Harry decides for him. "I know, asshole," he nods, pulling Liam into a hug. "I'll be back, you know."

"I know," he agrees. "Bring food." 

Harry laughs. "I'll sneak you McDonalds." 

"Like I did in seventh grade when your mum decided your family needed to be healthy?" 

"Exactly," he grins. "I'll see you Friday, man." 

It's Wednesday. It could be worse, he supposes, but that's three days by himself, surrounded by people even worse off than he is. But he knows Harry has things to do, that aren't check on Liam in rehab, and honestly, Liam's a grown man, he can handle this. So he nods, bids Harry aideu, and follows Darren to his room all by his lonesome. He got the basic rundown of rehab from Darren, though he was only half listening; he gets medication three times a day, sees his nurse four, has to go to therapy every second day, and if he's caught selling/trading medications/with drugs more than three times, he'll be kicked out, and left for dead. 

Liam nods along with him, though he turns to stare at the window as soon as he's gone, wondering if he could fit through it and flit into the free world. 

But then his nurse walks in, and Liam's opinion on rehab changes kind of drastically. 

.

He's beautiful. 

And beautiful's not a word Liam uses lightly. He uses hot a lot, because it's kinda generic. It refers to the general appeal of a person's facial structure, or the look of their body. Somebody that gets you hot, or those around you, at the same time it could mean someone with a fever, or someone situated in the throes of summer, or whatever. Sexy is overused, too, because sexy is easy, and sexy is sex, and sex is what Liam does. Liam doesn't _do_ beautiful. 

But there's no other words to describe this nurse. 

He's love, and light, and life, and beauty, and everything Liam's ever wanted, but never been able to have. His eyes shine, and his smile is bright sunlight and fresh air and new love. He has pretty, pouty lips, which actually isn't the first thing Liam notices, and dark eyelashes that stretch on forever and frame the prettiest - most beautiful - eyes Liam thinks he's ever seen. 

And then he speaks, "Hello, love. You must be Liam," and Liam's mouth goes dry because he has, without a doubt, the prettiest voice Liam's ever heard. Peals of bells, and angels singing, pretty words spoken by even prettier lips. 

Liam only blinks at him. He forgets he has to respond. 

"Liam?" The nurse asks after a moment, and he laughs, and Liam blinks again. "You're Liam right?" 

"I'm he," Liam agrees. "I mean, him. I mean," he says, and sighs. "I'm Liam." 

He grins. His eyes crinkle, and his lips part, and he presses his tongue to the backs of his teeth and Liam doesn't know why it's so fucking endearing. "Pleasure to meet you, Liam. I'm Zayn." 

Liam's starting to get aggravated. Of course his name is Zayn. Of course he was the prettiest fucking name anyone's ever been named, ever. 

Liam, in favour of staring and pouting, forgets to respond, and silence falls between the pair of them again. Zayn frowns, and he kind of juts out his lower lip and furrows his brow and Liam really wants to kiss him. And to Liam, that's kind of a foreign feeling.

"Are you alright, Liam?" Zayn asks finally, and Liam wants to nod, but he's still feeling uneasy and dizzy and nauseous and he doesn't want to throw up in front of the pretty nurse. He knows that would bring the chances of the two of them kissing down drastically. 

"Fine," he says finally, and wets his lips, tilting his head in a half assed attempt at shaking his head and clearing his mind. "Not feeling good, s'all." 

"Right," Zayn nods, and he crouches down in front of Liam, handing him a paper cup of red pills and a bottle of water. "Take these," he urges gently, as he pulls a needle from the pocket of his his scrubs, as though that's something people do. "They'll help you feel better, so you should be able to eat around dinner. This," he motions to the needle, "is a tranquilizer, and it should put you to sleep until then." 

Liam blinks at him. "Isn't the point of rehab to keep me away from needles?" 

Zayn laughs. "You've got to get worse, before you get better." 

Liam nods, and Zayn laughs again, gently taking Liam's hand and laying it on his thigh as he readies the needle. Zayn's hand is soft, and warm, and small, and Liam wants to pout again because he can't think of a good reason they shouldn't permanently hold hands. But then there's a tranquilizer stuck in his arm, and Liam kind of basks in the feeling, before it's gone and he tired and Zayn's fuzzy around the edges. 

But he's still pretty. 

Liam sighs. 

. 

When Liam wakes up, it's to the chorus of awkward cooing and somebody shaking his left shoulder. 

"Liam," the voice coos, and Liam frowns. "Liam..." 

"Mm?" Liam asks blankly, furrowing his brow but not bothering to open his eyes. 

"It's time to get up, Liam." Liam groans softly, and attempts to roll over, but there's a dip in the mattress and another hand on his waist before he gets the chance. "I'll get into bed with you if you don't wake up."

Liam groans again, but Liam really doesn't want to try to wedge another person into the bed, so he wills his eyes to open slowly. The room is darker than he remembers it being, and the door is open, and there's a girl in blue scrubs sitting on the mattress next to him. Her hair's pulled back in a ponytail, and Liam honestly can't tell if it's coloured blonde or grey or ashen purple. 

"Who are you?" He croaks. 

She sniffs. "I'm Perrie. I'm a nurse." 

"You're a nurse?" Liam asks, because he thought Zayn was his nurse, wasn't he, and Perrie sniffs again.

"Alright, I'm a medical assistant. I do all the shit nurses don't want to do." 

"And the nurses don't bother to wake up their patients?" 

"They're too busy with dinner." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. So," she rises, and gently pats Liam's hip, "up you get."

"M'not hungry," Liam mumbles, because he's tired, and comfortable, and he can't remember the last time he hasn't been in a rush to jump from the bed and get high, or get home. But his body, never at his own mercy, betrays him, and his stomach starts to roar as Perrie sighs. 

"C'mon, Liam, up you get," she chirps. 

He wrinkles his nose. "I don't wanna." 

Perrie sighs again, before she quirks a brow, placing a hand on her hip and looking down at Liam with an expression he suspects is supposed to be intimidating. 

It is. 

Liam sighs, and rises from the bed slowly, keeping his thick comforter held tightly across his shoulders. Perrie doesn't say anything, apparently it's not news, and simply smiles victoriously before patting his bum and all but dancing from the room. Liam guesses he's supposed to follow after her, and does just that, padding after her down a long corridor, and through the front foyer, and the waiting room, and the rec. room. She leads him down another long hallway, into what Liam suspects looks like a high school cafeteria, though he doesn't know for certain. The only time he's seen one was TV. He'd never gone. 

"Here you are," she announces, and Liam blinks. "You go find somewhere to sit, I'll go get you your food." 

"Oh," Liam says, and he think it must be that the medication hasn't worn off completely, because he really can't think straight anymore. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that." 

Perrie waves a hand. "I know. But Zayn asked me to. He said you weren't looking great and could use a bit of a break." 

Liam's heart kind of swells, and it's unpleasant. "Did he?" 

"He was almost against letting me wake you up, but you'd wake up feeling even worse if you didn't get more pills around this time." 

"Oh," he says, and nods.

"Yeah," she smiles. She has a pretty smile. Liam thinks he might like her. "So go, sit. You think you can keep some fruit down for now?" 

"I think so." 

"Good. I'll just sneak you more food if you're hungry, later," she winks, before she turns, wandering off in the opposite direction after patting Liam's arse again. Liam's too tired to want to question it. 

He turns slowly, to face the tables spread across the room, most of which are dotted with people and other patients and strangers. Liam doesn't like people, and people don't like Liam, and Liam thinks the daunting task of having people look at him might be too much. But then Louis' next to him, about half his size, and he's taking his hand and tugging on his arm and guiding him towards an occupied table without even looking up with him. 

Liam doesn't bother questioning him, either. And that only has part to do with the fact that Louis reminds him a lot of those little chihuahuas that try to chew your face off when you make them unhappy. 

He leads him to a table, already situated with four other people, and pulls out the chair in front of Liam before taking the seat next to him. Liam takes the hint, and sits down slowly, holding to the edges of his blanket so tightly his knuckles go white. He's so pale it's barely noticeable. 

"Alright," somebody says finally, and Liam glances up to catch the critical eye of some kid with a round face and white hair. "Who is this?" 

"Harry's friend," Louis says, and Liam really wants to laugh. Of course that's why he caught Louis' attention. Of course Louis' already infatuated with Harry. Liam's barely surprised, anyway. That's how most people are with him. 

"I'm Liam," Liam offers, and the kid nods and holds a hand to him across the table. Liam hesitates, hands still shaking, though the last thing he wants is to appear rude and convince somebody to hate him only hours into rehab. He takes his hand over the table, and shakes it slowly, willing his fingers to stop shaking. 

The kid doesn't appear to mind. He smiles reassuringly. "M'Michael. This is Luke, Calum, and Ashton. And I think you've met Louis?" 

"He met my friend?" 

"Harry," Louis says matter of factly, and Liam nods. 

"He met Harry." 

"He likes Harry," Michael tells Liam, and Louis nods. 

Liam smiles. "Harry likes Louis." 

Louis beams, and it's probably the happiest thing Liam's ever seen. His entire expression shifts, and the air around him shines, and Liam thinks if he never stopped smiling he could probably bring world peace. Him and Harry would be good together. 

Michael laughs. "He's quite infatuated with Harry, Louis is. Hasn't stopped talking about him. He dropped you off just this morning, didn't he?" 

Liam nods, stifling a yawn before wrinkling his nose distastefully. "Yeah. I thought we were s'posed to be going to suit fitting for my friend's wedding, but it turned out to be an intervention. They tied me down and cried and had to ship me out here first thing before the withdrawal got to be too much." 

Michael winces sympathetically, as the kid beside him, Luke, glances up. "I had an intervention too," he says. "I almost didn't wanna go just because they felt like they couldn't just ask me upfront." 

"How long've you been here?" 

"'Bout six months." Liam must flinch, because Luke laughs. "S'not so bad. I met these four. And you know what they say, the friends you make in rehab are your friends for life." 

Michael shakes his head. "Don't listen to him. Nobody says that." 

. 

Months passed, words traded, friends made. 

Michael and his merry band of assholes call themselves 5 Seconds of Summer, even though there's only four of them, because they think they're a lot funnier than they actually are. It's written in the small plaque next to each of theirs doors, beneath their actual names, and room numbers. Luke has proven himself to be full of fun facts that aren't true, and talks about Keanu Reeves more than anyone Liam's ever met. They've decided, 5 Seconds of Summer, that as soon as they get out of rehab, they're starting a band, because their tale is one of inspiration, and they really need to do something with their name. 

Louis is against it completely, and tells them any chance he gets he's going to boycott their shows.

Michael usually laughs and says that at least that means they're gonna have shows. 

Louis, apparently, is not only a recovering addict, but suffers from a mild form of autism Liam's not smart enough to remember the proper term for. He has troubles communicating with strangers, and he's cripplingly quiet and shy and anxious, but once he decides to open up to you, he never stops talking. Like, ever. 

He's sitting on Liam's bed, still rambling on about the merits of tramp stamps, or something, while Liam idly scribbles song lyrics across the margins of the notebook he'd been gifted. Louis has one, a tramp stamp, in the form of paint splatters spread across the small of his back made to look like the Dark Knight symbol. Louis has decided that since Liam likes Batman, he should get one, too, and Liam's not entirely opposed.

"I'm just saying, tattoos hurt in general, but getting them on your _spine_ is awful. Especially the base of your spine. Like, the tattoos are known for being girly, right, but it's such a brave place to get one, and sometimes they can look extremely badass. I mean, if you get butterflies or hearts or whatever the hell is the norm for tramp stamps, of course it's gonna look girly. But -" 

Louis' rant, which has been all Liam's heard for the past three hours, by the way, is cut short when somebody suddenly knocks on the door. Louis quiets instantly, and juts out his lower lip, as Liam glances over at the clock tacked to the far well. 

It's almost ten. 

That means Zayn. 

Liam sighs. Every day, Liam probably spends more time with Zayn, than he does anyone else. And Zayn, Liam probably knows the least about. He works as Liam's therapist, too, so he knows everything there is to know about Liam, but every time Liam gets close to getting to know Zayn, he'll shut down. And Liam doesn't even know why that is. 

He's trying to squeeze Perrie for information, but she won't give him any, because she's a bad friend. 

"Come in," he calls, ignoring Louis as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the wall. 

Louis claims to have something against Zayn, for whatever reason, but Liam knows he's just against the idea of not having full attention focused on him at all times. Sometimes it cute. Sometimes it makes Liam want to ignore him permanently. 

Zayn, oblivious to the look Louis' casting the door and the hex he's probably mumbling under his breath, pushes inside, red pills and water bottle held securely in one hand. He smiles, sunshine and angels singing and Liam's heart swelling to unnatural proportions, and hands Liam the offending objects when he looks back up from his notebook. 

"Thanks," Liam nods, and Zayn grins again, and it's so happy and lovely and genuine and directed at Liam and Liam doesn't even know what to do. He can't even bring himself to smile. His smile can't compete with the walking toothpaste commercial his nurse appears to be, anyway. 

He looks away, instead, because he's as suave as they come, and downs his pills with a large mouthful of water. 

He hears Zayn laugh. "Mirrors?" 

"Wah?" he replies, around his next sip of water. He narrowly manages to keep from choking and spitting everywhere. 

Zayn giggles. Actually giggles. "Mirrors," he repeats, and nods down at Liam's notebook, raising his eyebrows curiously. "I don't know if I would have taken you for a Justin Timberlake fan." 

"Oh," Liam says, glancing down. " _Oh_. Yeah. I am." 

He laughs again. "He's in town this weekend, did you hear?" 

Liam shakes his head, because of course he didn't hear that, he never leaves his room. He never really gets the opportunity to hear anything that isn't Louis, either, but that's not really anybody's fault but Louis'. "Oh, no, is he really?" 

"Yeah, actually." Zayn bites his lip. It's the hottest thing Liam thinks he's ever seen. "I have a spare ticket, if you wanna go." 

"Fuck yeah I wanna go," Liam blurts, running a hand down his jaw. Justin Timberlake and Zayn are like his two favourite things. "Would they let me leave?" 

"We're not supposed to let you off ground until after sixty days, but you'd be supervised. And nobody can say no to me," he grins. 

Liam laughs. "Then yeah. Fuck yeah. Of course I wanna do that." 

.

The concert's in four hours, and Perrie's freaking out. 

Perrie. 

She's taken it upon herself to be Liam's wardrobe consultant, and Liam doesn't think it's gonna be much longer before she consults that he burn all his clothes. 

Apparently the wardrobe of a struggling addict is not up to par. 

"Do you own anything that's not a snapback or a hoodie?" She huffs finally, looking up from the circle of suitcases she's somehow found herself in the middle of. "It's literally just the exact same thing in different colours." 

"I don't usually dress to impress," Liam snorts, and Perrie throws her arms up.

"That's no excuse!" 

He rolls his eyes. "You're talking a lot of shit from someone I've only ever seen in scrubs." 

"They bring out my eyes," she tells him, and flutters her eyelashes, and she's not exactly wrong. 

Liam rolls his eyes again. "Well I'm not going commando, so."

She looks up at him again, and she grins, and Liam knows her well enough to start sighing before she even speaks. And then she says, "I guess that means we have to go shopping," and Liam knows he was right. 

. 

Liam doesn't know what Perrie said to get him out of the hospital, but he figures out she must be very persuasive. Another hour, and he finds himself another mile down the road, in what has to be the most populated mall in the entire country. 

Perrie seems delighted. 

She drags him through the front doors, and past the crowd of teenagers that linger there, glancing around with eyes even wider than normal. Liam knows, as Perrie's gone to lengths to remind him, that she hasn't gone out half as much as she used to, because of work, and the exhaustion that comes with it. He'd always brushed it off, but it's evident she hadn't been lying, and it's even more obvious that she's missed it a lot.

Liam almost feels bad for whining the whole ride over. 

Not quite, though. 

"You realize I'm a recovering bum and don't have any money, yeah?" Liam asks finally, when Perrie's attention is finally drawn back to him. 

She scoffs, and waves a hand, looking up at Liam as dismissively as ever. "I have money, you bum."

Liam frowns. "You really don't have to -"

"- do this for me," Perrie concludes, rolling her eyes. "But I'm not. I'm doing this for Zayn." 

"How are you doing this for Zayn?"

"It's your first date. I need to give him something to look at." 

Liam snorts. "It's not even a date." 

"Oh, yes, it is," Perrie says bluntly, rolling her eyes at him before looking away to rifle through her impractically large bag. "Are you kidding? Zayn's idea of an ideal first date is literally a Justin Timberlake concert." 

"It is a good first date idea," Liam admits. 

"See?" 

"That doesn't prove anything." 

Perrie sighs, finally pulling her phone from her bag and placing it in Liam's hand. He glances down at it, at the messages on the screen, and his heart does this weird somersault that's entirely unpleasant. 

Zee: Aha, yeah! Date with Liam. Finally found someone willing to go to the concert with me! x' 

"Holy shit," Liam says. 

Perrie quirks a brow. "This is what happens when people doubt me." 

"Holy shit," Liam repeats, glancing down at Perrie blankly as she gingerly takes her phone back and rolls her eyes.

"Honestly. What did you think was happening?" 

"I don't know," he admits. "Why does he even wanna go on a date with me?"

"Beats me," Perrie says, and she laughs as Liam huffs, and frowns down at her. "Relax, Liam, I'm kidding. Don't you wanna go out on a date with Zayn?"

"Of course I wanna go on a date with Zayn, are you kidding?" 

"Then why are you panicking?" 

And Liam suddenly doesn't know what to tell her.

He doesn't know how to say that he's panicking, because he can't do it, he doesn't do dates. He likes Zayn, of course he does, and he's pretty sure everyone else he's ever come in contact with does, too. Zayn is love and light and life, and sunshine and fresh air, and angels singing, and beautiful choirs of saints. 

Liam's kinda just mud.

And he doesn't know how to entertain someone enough that they want to stick around for more than one night, let alone how to keep someone entertained outside his bedroom. 

He opens his mouth, before he shuts it, starting to flounder beneath the pointed gaze Perrie's fixed him with. He doesn't know what to say, or how to speak, and he feels seconds away from sitting down and dropping his head into his hands. He can't voice what he wants, or what he thinks, and he's starting to feel helpless. 

Perrie seems to get it. 

"You," she says softly, "you think he's gonna get bored of you, don't you?" 

Liam nods. "I - yeah," he agrees, and nods again, huffing out a breath as he tries to straighten out his thoughts. "I'm not - I'm not exciting. I'm fucking, I suck. I'm not smart, or funny, or able to, like, communicate without stuttering, and I -" 

"Zayn's terrified, too, you know." 

He stops. "What?" 

Perrie nods. "You remember Zayn, right?" She teases softly. "He's terrified. He thinks he's not gonna be enough for you." 

"Enough for _me_? Are you kidding?" She shakes her head. "Wah - _why_?" 

Perrie sighs softly, and glances around, before gently taking Liam's hand. "I think it's time we had a little talk." Liam blinks, but he doesn't object, and follows after her as she leads him away, to a small, rather secluded bank of benches. She releases his hand as she sits, before patting the spot next to her, and Liam sits down without a word. 

Perrie sighs again. 

"Zayn's shy," she says. 

Liam only blinks. "Am I supposed to be surprised?" 

Perrie shakes her head slowly. "Zayn's shy because he has - well, at the clinic, we call it a damsel-in-distress complex. For whatever reason, he's attracted to broken people. People that can break him." 

"Hey, I am _not_ -" 

"I'm not saying you are. I'm saying that every boyfriend Zayn's had, up until this moment, right now, has broken his heart. It's almost like he's attracted to the idea of fixing them, when they're all always attracted to the idea of breaking him. I don't know if you've noticed, but he looks kind of innocent and unbreakable, and for whatever reason, people always seem to see it as a challenge." She sighs softly. She looks more genuine than Liam thinks he's seen her. "They'll stay with him for a while, get him to fall in love, sleep with him, and then disappear like they'd never been there in the first place. He always blames himself." 

"Shit," Liam says. 

Perrie nods. "He doesn't want to lose you like that, Liam. He genuinely likes you, and I think you're probably the most genuine guy he's ever been interested in. You're a bit of an ass, sometimes, and you own too many snapbacks, but - " 

"I don't even have that many!" 

" - _but_ , you talk about Zayn, the same way he talks about you. And I have hope for you."

"Well, thank you." 

"Try not to let me down, okay?" She smiles softly, as Liam nods. "He's terrified, Liam," Perrie reminds him. "If you break his heart, too, I may have to kill you."

. 

Wanting nothing less than to break Zayn's heart, Liam puts aside his fears. 

He follows Perrie through the mall, allows her to revamp his wardrobe, and promises to wear the clothes she picked out for him when they're back in Liam's room and Perrie's called away to do some actual work. He puts them on, pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, and promises himself that, for Zayn's sake, he can do this. He's still scared, and terrified, and mortified, but no longer at the word date, or the prospect of participating in one. He's scared of it not being successful, or of breaking Zayn. 

He feels as though its a step in the right direction.

.

Ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door. 

Liam takes a deep breath. 

Willing his hands to stop shaking, he turns from the mirror, running his fingers through his hair for the final time. He walks to the door, and his steps are too heavy, but he's brave, and he manages, for Zayn's sake. He pulls it open, and suddenly smiles, as warmth and light and laughter pour, uninvited into the room. There, just beyond the threshold, Zayn stands, looking as beautiful as ever; looking so good in black jeans Liam momentarily forgets how to speak. 

His fear is forgotten, too.

"You ready?" Zayn asks, and Liam, despite his best attempts, can't keep himself from grinning. 

He offers Zayn his arm. "Of course." 

. 

They're minutes into their completely virginal date, and Liam's not bored at all. 

Relieved isn't strong enough a word.

A solid two songs have been performed, but Liam's just as invested in Zayn as he was on the ride over, and the feeling is so unusual, and so strange, but it's oh, so lovely. He basks in the moment, for a moment, before he turns to look down at Zayn again, who appears to be so in his element that Liam's heart lurches in a way that's not at all pleasant. 

His eyes are bright, and his lips are quirked upward, moving as he sings along with a voice that's almost more pleasant than the musician himself. He seems happier than normal, much more carefree, and he looks so fucking pretty Liam's torn between wanting to wrap him in blankets and hide him from the world, and to pin him against the nearest wall and kiss him until the only thing Zayn can think is Liam's name. 

Liam, caught up in his thoughts and Zayn's eyes, continues to stare until Zayn notices and looks up at him, smile faltering. Liam's heart stops for a moment, before Zayn's smile's back full force, bright and honest and earnest and focused solely on Liam. "Are you alright?" He asks, and Liam laughs. 

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" 

Zayn blushes, and his smile falls again, though his eyes shine so much brighter it's nearly blinding. "You think so?" 

Liam snorts. "Aphrodite thinks so." 

Zayn laughs, Liam's timeless sense of humor not going under appreciated. Pride swells somewhere within him. It's unpleasant. "I'm really not, Liam," he starts to protest, and Liam's not having any of it. 

"Don't," he warns. "I haven't seen beauty in anything, really, since I was about seventeen. If I can say it to you, I mean it." 

Zayn laughs again, though he's still blushing, pink and beautiful. "You're too good to me, you know." 

"You deserve the best," Liam tells him, without thinking, not missing a beat. Zayn's smile falls, once more, though the light starts to fade, too, and it takes Liam's heart half a moment to drop to the pit of his stomach. 

He thinks he's crossed a line, one he didn't know existed, and he wets his lips again as his mind starts to backtrack. He's gonna apologize, he's never been made aware of the rules of first dates, he really doesn't think before he speaks - 

\- and then Zayn's lips are attached to his own, and he forgets how to speak all together. 

He makes a small sound of surprise, though he returns the kiss quickly, and he can feel Zayn smile against his lips as Liam's hands come to curl around his tiny waist. 

"You," Zayn murmurs finally, as he pulls back, smiling softly at the whine Liam emits, "are the sweetest, are you aware of that?"

Liam smiles. "I try my best." 

.

Liam and Zayn become LiamandZayn, very quickly. 

Liam can't even pinpoint at which point it happens. It's like, the kiss at the concert opened the flood gates, and every emotion Liam's since banned himself from feeling falls forth. They go on another date, and another, Liam wakes up more mornings than not with Zayn next to him. He'll follow Zayn around some days, when he has to work, and Zayn will spend every available moment of his day glued to Liam's side. 

Liam's happy, moreso than he's been in a long time, and a part of him wonders why he hasn't tried out the whole _relationship_ thing sooner. 

He thinks maybe it's 'cause he hadn't met Zayn sooner. 

It's six months later, on their twenty first consecutive date, when it happens. 

They're seated at some beach somewhere, miles away from the clinic, seated on large boulders and talking about anything and everything they please. Liam's in the middle of some rant about Batman - and how Christian Bale does him absolutely no justice, thanks - when Zayn's eyes start to do that happy anime thing, and the longer Liam looks at him, the more difficult he finds it to continue speaking. 

He finally gives up, and curiously tilts his head, trying to figure out what Zayn could be thinking, without saying a word. 

Finally, Zayn smiles. "I love you, Liam." 

And, for the first time since he can remember, Liam doesn't hesitate to reply. 

He's had plenty of time to think about this, lots of experience to speak from, countless conversations with Perrie to knowingly fall back. He loves Zayn. He tells him as much. 

The next thing he knows they're standing in the living room of Zayn's flat. 

Liam's shirts disappeared, draped over a lamp somewhere, and Zayn's hands are hooked beneath the waistband of his jeans. They aren't so much kissing anymore, as they are panting into each others mouths, and Liam can't even pretend he doesn't find it _so fucking hot_.

He groans. Zayn whimpers again. 

When Liam finally feels his belt being unhooked, he pushes Zayn's hands away, pulling it off of him and discarding it with the same lack of care as his shirt. His hands curl around Zayn's waist again, and he all but slams him against the far wall, and the sounds Zayn emits are enough in themselves to drive Liam crazy. 

He groans again, and he feels Zayn's hands in his hair again, and carnal instinct replaces his ability to think until he's finally ripped off all of Zayn's clothes and laid him down on his bed. 

His breathing's laboured, his chest heaving, his lips raw and swollen and parted prettily. He's gasping, something that sounds vaguely like Liam's name, and Liam nearly growls as he finally manages to uncap the small bottle of lube. His hands threaten to start shaking - a habit, he's learned, that occurs every time he really doesn't want it to - but before the opportunity arises, Zayn is sitting up, taking the bottle from Liam's grasp and pouring the cool liquid into the palm of his hand. 

Slowly, teasingly, he wraps his cool fingers around Liam's length, taking too much time to coat his dick, pumping him much too slowly. Liam growls again, and he swears Zayn winks, before his own, free hand disappears between his thighs. He releases Liam slowly, but spends and even more impractical amount of time stretching himself, and Liam can only stand it for a few more moments, before he thinks it's driving him crazy. 

He sits up, as quickly as he can, and pushes Zayn down onto his back, drinking in the loud gasp that immediately leaves his lips. He pushes Zayn's hand away from himself, and collects it in his own, pinning both of Zayn's wrists to the bed with one hand while the other immediately comes to curl onto the headboard. He presses his lips to Zayn's, forcefully, and kisses him, bruisingly, and thrusts inside Zayn, slowly, as the smaller lad cries out into Liam's mouth. 

"Love you," he pants, and Liam's heart swells again. It's gross. "Jesus, Liam, I love you so much."

But Liam, despite himself, and their compromising position, can't hold back the answering,"I love you," that immediately leaves his lips. He loves Zayn, more than he thinks he's loved anybody, and he makes love to Zayn, the first time he can consider sex anything but a _quick, meaningless, fuck._

And it's only when he's thinking about this an hour later, with Zayn sound asleep beside him, that it all goes to shit. 

. 

Liam had promised Zayn, moments before he fell asleep, that when he wakes up, Liam will still be there, and that he will have stayed with Zayn through the night like nobody has in the past. 

Liam regrets making that promise. 

Left by himself, to his own devices, his mind starts to open up, freeing his thoughts to run rampant. They're bright, at first, and mostly about Zayn, how pretty he looks sleeping, how there's no way Liam's done enough to deserve him. But the thought, barely negitive, sparks something inside him, until his hands are shaking and his mind is aching and he's climbing from the bed. 

Because fuck, it's true, isn't it? 

He doesn't deserve Zayn. Happy, beautiful, lovely Zayn, who could do so much better than the shit life that Liam seems to bring to those around him, without even meaning to. So much better than the struggle he would have to help Liam through, so much better than a bitter, bipolar addict he'd no doubt have to support. He could do so much better than Liam, himself, who seems to break those he loves, by simply loving them too much. 

And Liam knows it's a dick move, and he knows it's a broken promise, and he knows that the hurt Zayn will feel in the morning will probably be worse than that which Liam is trying to put off. But he also knows he can't stay. He's broken, and he has a bad habit of breaking everything around him. He doesn't wanna break Zayn. 

He rises slowly, careful not to wake him, and pads across the room with carefully practiced silence. He dresses, with quieted fingertips, he pulls the door open and doesn't make a sound. 

He casts a final glance at Zayn, over his shoulder, once he's standing in the hall, and it's almost enough to make him turn back around. He's still sleeping, soft and lovely and beautiful, and he's mumbling Liam's name around a small smile that makes Liam's heart ache. 

_You make him happy_ , Liam thinks fleetingly, but the words die. He can't do this to Zayn. 

So he leaves. And he takes care to shut the door behind him. 

. 

Zayn doesn't show up to work the next day. 

Liam doesn't know what he expected. 

He doesn't press, or pry, because he understands, he left Zayn, Zayn needs a day. But he doesn't return the next, either. Or the next. Or the one after that. 

A week passes, and Liam's restless. The withdrawal he feels, being without Zayn, is almost worse than that of any drug he'd suffered through. He asks, but the nurses tell him politely that it's not his business, or that he just needs a bit to himself. 

Perrie, fortunately, doesn't hold back as much. 

Perrie explodes. 

"You're a fucking asshole!" 

Liam sits back in his bed, a little taken aback. "I -" 

"Fuck you, I don't wanna hear it!" She snaps. "You are a piece of shit human being, and your opinion means nothing to me. You _broke his heart_. Not even broke it, you crushed it, into thousands of little pieces. And I hope that those little pieces start to tear you apart from the inside."

"Perrie, I -" 

"Shut up!" Liam does. "He's more broken than I've seen him in a long time, and it's all your fault. You told him you loved him, that it meant something, that you wouldn't leave. And he _trusted_ you. Do you know how much of a step that is for him?" She cries. "He genuinely trusted you, and he actually fell for you, and you turned out to be the giant fucking _cunt_ he was worried you would be in the very beginning." 

She pauses for a moment, but Liam can't bring himself to speak. Perrie nods curtly. "He doesn't wanna come back into work, you know. Ever. He doesn't wanna have to deal with facing you or your face or the fucking reminder of what a giant asshole you actually are." 

"He's quitting?" 

"No. He wants to. I've convinced him otherwise. Because you are a fucking piece of shit, and he shouldn't have to uproot his life because of you, and _your_ mistakes. You aren't worth it. He loves his job, has, for a long time, and I wasn't going going to let him throw it away because he can't hear your name without crying." 

"He's cried?" He knows it's a stupid question. 

Perrie fixes him with a hard look. "I hope one day he'll find someone who can actually appreciate him. He's a fucking wonderful human being, I don't know why he would even waste his time on you." 

Liam wets his lips. 

Perrie leaves. 

.

Zayn's back, the next day. 

And Liam knows it's selfish, but he's so relieved it almost hurts. Zayn's back, and he's bright and he's smiling, and he's unbroken, and Liam's relieved. 

He hadn't meant to break Zayn. On the contrary, he had been aiming for the opposite, trying to shield him from the inevitable heartbreak Zayn would feel, being with him in the future. He wants Zayn to be happy, and Liam knows he can't give him that. Liam is drugs and disappointment and depression. And he's succeeded, he thinks, in getting himself out of Zayn's system, and he feels the first surge of success he's felt since he's checked into rehab. 

Apparently it's a false alarm. 

Zayn's love and light and life and laughter, until the moment he steps into Liam's room. He's gone, in that instant, he's not trying to smile or look alive or even look Liam in the eyes. The expression he's wearing is hard, but it's cracked, and Liam can see he's on the verge of breaking down. 

He's still broken. Liam's heart breaks. 

"Zayn," he murmurs, and Zayn shakes his head, covering his mouth with his hand to try and stifle his answering sobs. He's unsuccessful. Liam can hear them as though they're amplified. "Zayn," he whispers again. 

"I'm fine," Zayn says. He shakes his head again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I'm fine," he repeats, and his voice breaks. 

"Zayn," Liam starts, stepping closer to him, but Zayn just as quickly shakes his head and steps back. 

"Please," he says. He doesn't even try to mask his heartache anymore, and it's written clear across his face, and the jut out of his lower lip, and the tears pooling in his eyes. Liam's heart breaks all over again. Zayn's broken heart tearing him open from the inside. "Just, please, I don't wanna do this again." 

"Zayn, I just want -" 

"I don't," Zayn tells him, holding a small paper cup out to Liam. "Here're your pills." 

"Zayn, _please_ ," Liam tries again, and he knows it's stupid, and he knows he being selfish, but he really needs to talk to Zayn, to get the words out before they tear his lips open from the inside. He's spent a week without Zayn, and it's driven him crazy, and Zayn's woken up without him once, and it's broken him in ways Liam can't imagine. 

The one time Liam tries to do the right thing, it falls apart anyway. 

And Liam regrets it. 

He feels the regret weighing down upon him, like nothing he's ever felt before. He regrets leaving, leaving Zayn, ever considering that he could get on without him. He had tried to keep him from breaking, but his attempts were what had broken him, and he regrets it. And regret is something Liam doesn't do. 

So when Zayn shakes his head again, and flees as quickly as he can, something deep within Liam breaks. The regret, the guilt, the need to rewind time and start from the beginning, it rips his heart in two. It leaves a Zayn-shaped burn branded into his very soul. 

And it's the exact feeling that landed him in rehab in the first place. 

Hours later, Liam finds himself off grounds again, rubber band wrapped tightly around his bicep, needled sitauted just over his protruding vein. All he can think anymore is guilt, regret, and _Zayn_ , and the relief he feels, finally pushing his escape into his arm, is one he can't describe. 

It's good to be home, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt ended with 'not a happy ending' ('because the success rate of addicts trying to better themselves is actually quite low') but hahaha fuck me who are we kidding i may have to write a sequel
> 
> also follow me on tumblr (malikvodka.tumblr.com)(im not gonna link it cause thats too much work) and like send me prompts if you want cause lol i need something to write during school that makes it look like im doing school work


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